Patchwork Family

by Bonnie Tharp

  She looked at her granddaughter’s earnest face.

  “I enjoy his company. We’re friends. Besides, it’s none of your business. I don’t ask you about Miles or the hickey.”

  Red colored Peggy from neck to hairline in mere seconds.

  “Oh my God, Gram. Let’s not even go there, okay?”

  “No, we haven’t been intimate, if that’s what you’re hinting at.” Annabelle smiled, taking another hand full of popcorn.

  “Gross. I told you I didn’t want to go there. Jeez. There are some things I don’t even want to imagine.” Peggy covered her face with a pillow, making groaning noises into the fabric.

  Cradling the bowl in her lap, Annabelle studied her granddaughter. “While we’re on the subject, have you had sex yet?”

  The pillow flopped into Peggy’s lap. Her mouth hung open.

  “What? Me? I’m not even sixteen.” To Annabelle’s surprise, Peggy’s cheeks darkened even more.

  “I read the papers. I watch television. I know that girls your age are having babies.”

  Hugging the pillow against her stomach, Peggy moaned. “I can’t talk to you about this, it’s too . . .”

  “Too what?”

  “Embarrassing.”

  “You know about AIDS? Venereal diseases, right?”

  “Yes, I know about STD’s. They taught us about them in health class. I also know what a condom looks like, but I have to say they make lousy water balloons—you can ask Tad about that.”

  “STD?” Annabelle asked.

  “Sexually transmitted disease.” Peggy hugged the pillow so tight Annabelle wondered if it would pop all the stuffing out. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with my grandmother.”

  “It’s not very easy for me, either, young lady.”

  “How could you just blurt it out like that?”

  “I couldn’t think of a better way. Can you?” Taking another bite of popcorn, Annabelle concentrated on the screen again.

  “No, I guess not.”

  I don’t know which one of us will curl up and die from embarrassment first. What was I thinking?

  They sat and watched John Wayne and Dean Martin walking down the dirt street looking for bad guys around every corner.

  “Gram.” Peggy put the pillow back into the corner of the sofa.

  “Ahuh.”

  “I haven’t.”

  Placing her hand on her granddaughter’s knee, Annabelle smiled. “I’m glad. It’s special when you’re fully grown, with a man you love.”

  “It’s not like in the old movies though, is it?”

  “No. It’s not like the movies at all. It’s very . . .”

  “Very what?”

  “Messy.”

  Peggy wrinkled her nose.

  “Woof,” Turbo barked, running to the door just as Tad opened it.

  “We’re home. You should see the haul we made,” he said.

  “Gram?” The sorceress pulled off her star covered conical hat.

  “In here, kids. Let’s take a look at this haul on the dining room table.”

  Peggy stayed in front of the television while Annabelle, Tad and Megan went in to the other room.

  “Totally weird,” Peggy said under her breath.

  Annabelle heard her last words and chuckled. What a strange conversation that ended on a very unusual note. But it was only the truth. Sometimes things came with very messy consequences.

  Chapter 36

  LYING ON TOP OF the bed next to her sister, Peggy tried very hard to concentrate, without much luck. She’d read this page three times, still not sure what it said.

  “Peggy?” Megan interrupted her sister, again.

  “Ahuh.” Peggy didn’t look over the top of the teen magazine, just kept staring at the page.

  “What am I going to do?” Megan flopped back on the pillows.

  “About what?” Peggy finally laid the magazine aside to concentrate on her baby sister.

  “I have to find Gram’s pearls before Regina’s and Sam’s wedding.”

  “Then I guess we’d better get busy looking. Don’t you remember anything about where you put them?”

  “No. Usually I see things in pictures, but it’s all black when I try to think about the pearls. I remember I put them in something, but . . .”

  “That’s a start. What do you say we spend today going through the upstairs bedrooms? We’ll check all the cubby holes and stuff.”

  “You’ll help me?”

  “Sure.” Putting her arm around her little sister’s shoulders, Peggy gave her a squeeze. “What are big sisters for?”

  “Thanks.” Megan laid her head against her sister for a moment then stood up. “Let’s start in our room. That seems like a good place, don’t you think?”

  “Sure.”

  The girls went through the nightstand, chest of drawers, looked under the bed, in the window seat and the cubby in the closet. They checked every box on the top shelf, including the pockets of the coats hanging in the back. Nothing. They felt all of the cushions, pillow cases and even under the mattress, but didn’t find the missing necklace.

  Together they inspected each of the other bedrooms, checking every corner thoroughly, but no pearls. It took them from breakfast to lunch to search the second floor, including the bathroom. In the hidey-hole behind the bathroom door, all they found there were cleaning supplies, old crocheted tissue covers and ragged towels.

  “Kids, lunch!” Annabelle called.

  Tad came down from the attic, his shirt covered with paint, just as the girls emerged from the bathroom, sweating and dusty.

  “Whatcha doing?” he asked.

  “Trying to find Gram’s pearls,” Peggy said.

  Megan sniffed. “We’re not having any luck.”

  “Do you ever go up in the attic studio?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t peek at your painting. I learned not to do that from Regina.”

  Peggy remembered the night Tad had hidden behind the bed from Regina’s wrath after he had desecrated her precious art by putting orange mustaches on the portraits. He’d been angry, confused and did the one thing that might get them kicked out of the house. Sort of like a test, to see if there was love inside this family. He’d almost failed, but Gram stood up to Regina for the first time. Tillie showed Regina they could easily repair the damage with a swipe of a linseed oil soaked cloth.

  They thumped down the stairs single file, stopping in the foyer.

  “Thanks, but do you know about the other half of the attic? The walled off part?”

  “Sure. You showed us that before you tried to ruin Regina’s paintings, remember?” Megan said.

  “Yeah, what a tough night. I’m wondering is if you could’ve put them up there. No one goes in there much. There’s an old trunk and tons of boxes to hide stuff in.”

  “Maybe.” Megan walked toward the kitchen. “All I remember is dark. That could be right.”

  “Let’s go eat. I’ll help you look after lunch. If you leave me some extra cookies.”

  Megan nodded at her brother.

  “That room’s creepy.” Peggy hung back. “It’s filled floor to ceiling with stuff. There’s even an old dressmaker dummy from a hundred years ago. Not to mention cobwebs and spiders.”

  “It’s a cozy room, filled with secrets, like in a story.” Megan looked dreamy eyed. “You know what, Tadpole, you might be right.”

  They joined their grandmother in the kitchen and wolfed down their sandwiches.

  “My, you’re all in a hurry today. Want to help me with the cleaning?”

  “We think we might have an idea where the pearls are,” Peggy said.

  “We’re going to check as soon as we’re done feeding our
faces. After I’ve wiped out the cookie jar.” Tad scooped out a handful of cookies, scattering crumbs everywhere.

  “Oh, well, I appreciate you helping Megan. I’m sure they’ll turn up, maybe even while I’m cleaning.”

  “I hope we find them soon.” Megan picked up her dirty dishes, stacking them in the dishwasher.

  Her siblings joined her on the stairs.

  “Wait a second.” Tad slipped into his bedroom, coming back with a flashlight. “It’s pretty dark up there.”

  “Good idea,” Peggy said.

  They mounted the creaky stairs to the attic in single file. Tad led with the light. He pulled the string on the bulb that hung in the painter’s studio and crossed the room to a narrow door that opened into the storage area of the cupola. This side of the room didn’t have any windows, even the flashlight cast deep, dark shadows. Tad pulled another string. A single bulb struggled to brighten the center of the cluttered room.

  “Take a look around. Is there anywhere in here you haven’t been?” Tad roamed the narrow aisles of leaning boxes.

  “I don’t think so.” Megan wandered the other direction, meeting him in the middle. “I’ve looked in almost every box, the old trunks, everywhere. There are lots of cool old clothes and papers. I hoped I might find Regina’s old china doll, but I didn’t.”

  “Let’s start from the back and work our way forward,” Peggy said. “You probably wouldn’t hide any stuff close to the door. That would be too easy for a burglar to find.”

  “Brilliant deduction, my dear Peggy.” Tad bowed in her direction.

  Peggy slipped around the boxes on the right, Tad walked toward the left, and Megan decided to go straight down the middle. The boxes and trunks were stacked along the walls in rows; a few had been placed in the center.

  Blowing dust off the top of a box, Tad coughed. “I doubt it’s in here, too much . . . dust.”

  “Look anyway.” Peggy coughed, pointing a finger at her little brother. “Try not to fill the air with dust. We’re trying to breathe here.”

  “Okay, okay. There’s mostly papers in this one.”

  The trunk lid squeaked as Megan lifted it open. “This is full of old clothes.” She pulled out a hat with a crushed feather and slipped it on top of her head.

  Laughing, Peggy turned to the box in front of her, peeling back the flaps. She could hear the rustle of cloth or paper behind her, hoping no multi-legged creatures were anywhere close by.

  This old stuff is weird, like forgotten memories hidden in shadows.

  She discovered a batch of envelopes tied with a brown string, addressed to L. Malone & kids. “Oh, crap.” Flopping on her bottom on the dusty floor Peggy gasped. “Tad, Megan, come here.”

  Her siblings knelt beside her, reading over her shoulder.

  “They’re letters from Dad.” She gave an envelope to her brother, continuing to read the note she clutched in her trembling hands.

  Tad turned, walking a few feet away to stand under the light bulb. Holding up the letter to read, he said, “I can’t believe it.”

  Peggy looked at her brother then turned to Megan. “Do you want to read one?”

  “Okay.” Megan took the offered envelope, pulling the contents out with care.

  There were ten in all, the first two written close together, the last ones much later. Letting the tears fall, Peggy read one right after the other then passed them to Tad, who was conspicuously quiet. The dust filled room muffled the sound of breathing and the rustle of paper.

  Tad handed the last letter to Megan, watching Peggy neatly stack the rest. “Man, I can’t believe it. Mom really must’ve been pissed at him if she wouldn’t share these with us.”

  “You were wrong about him, Tad.” Megan put the letter on the stack. “He missed us.”

  “Maybe. Let’s keep looking for the pearls. I gotta think about this.” He opened another box in the far corner. He muffled a sniff, but Peggy heard, understanding his sadness.

  Megan put her finger in the middle of the string so Peggy tied it tight. Setting the packet aside, the sisters resumed looking in the box.

  Beside where the letters had been, there was a cigar box filled with sepia photographs of men and women in long dresses with button shoes, tight fitting shirts and bustles. She didn’t recognize anyone.

  I should show these to Gram, she probably knows who these people are.

  Underneath the letters, a fabric covered heart box caught her eye.

  “Megan, do you remember being in this box?”

  “Sure, that’s a cool one. It’s got jewels in it.”

  Opening the heart shaped box Peggy found an assortment of brooches, marbles, earrings with clips, but no pearls.

  “Where’s the marble bag?” Megan asked.

  “Marbles?” The young man’s head snapped up. He peered over his sisters’ shoulder. “Old marbles are really cool.”

  Hopping up onto her knees, Megan began to bounce. “The pearls should be in that box. They’ve got to be.” She squirmed in closer. “I think . . .” She pulled out the items on top, and there in the corner was an old bag made of leather and faded blue fabric. It was held together with a leather thong. The uneven stitches were coming loose near the rounded bottom. Megan pulled open the drawstring, holding it over her cupped palm. Out fell her grandmother’s string of pearls.

  Her smile lit up the room. “I remembered, just then. I could see them in my head!”

  “Where are the marbles?” Tad asked.

  “I’m so glad you found the pearls.” Peggy gave her sister a hug. “Let’s go give them back to Gram.”

  Megan held them close to her chest, tears making tracks down her dusty face.

  “Thanks for helping, guys.”

  “No problem. It helped us solve another mystery, too,” Peggy said.

  “About Dad?” Megan asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “But where are the marbles?” Tad shook Megan’s shoulder.

  Extending her finger, Megan pointed at the heart box. “In there.”

  He opened the heart to find them nestled in amongst the jewelry. “Gross. Now they’re covered with girl germs. You don’t put marbles in a jewelry box. They’re guy things, ya know.”

  “Whatever. You’re strange, little brother.” Peggy led her siblings out of the dusty room.

  Chapter 37

  ANNABELLE AND THE kids were cleaning the house from top to bottom in preparation for the holiday gatherings. Thanksgiving dinner would be at the Riverside house this year. Tillie would cook the meal, while Annabelle provided pies and rolls.

  We have truly been blessed. And Lord, I promise to do better this year on my pies.

  Last year when Tillie returned from the hospital, Annabelle had made a beautiful cherry pie, but she’d gotten the bulk containers of sugar and salt mixed up. It hadn’t been edible. She promptly bought a normal salt dispenser like her mother had used, so she’d never get them confused again.

  Two of the pumpkins from Halloween had remained untouched, hidden on the back porch where it was cool and dry. Megan volunteered to help scrape out the seeds. They were baked with salt, to snack on all day. Annabelle cooked down the raw pumpkin to make four pies. There were only eight people coming, but this way there might be some left over. Pumpkin pie with a big glop of whipped crème was one of her other favorite breakfast foods.

  “Whatcha doing, Gram?” Megan asked.

  “Hi, honey, I’m getting ready to make pies for Thanksgiving. Want to help?”

  “Sure, what do you want me to do?”

  Annabelle had the crust mixed up in the largest ceramic bowl they had. She extracted one of the four balls, putting it on the flour sprinkled counter. A rolling pin sat beside it.

  “Wash your hands. Then roll out this dough pretty thi
n.” Annabelle measured with thumb and forefinger. “Just about an inch bigger than the pie pan edge.”

  “Okay.” Megan went to the sink, cleaned up, and approached the waiting dough.

  “Here.” Annabelle tied a big kitchen towel around her granddaughter’s waist. “Put a little flour on your fingers so the dough won’t stick.”

  Megan dipped her fingers into the canister of flour and patted the ball of dough. She flattened it out with the palm of her hand then picked up the rolling pin.

  “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  “From watching you.”

  Smiling, Annabelle continued gathering the spices from the rack to mix into the filling. She preheated the oven before she started measuring then mixing.

  What a great memory this will make.

  “Is this thin enough?” Megan asked.

  “Let’s see.” Annabelle wiped her hands on her apron. She laid the pie pan upside down on the now flattened dough. “It’s perfect. Have you been taking cooking lessons from Tillie?”

  “No. I just remember. You make the best pumpkin pies.”

  “Thank you, honey.” Annabelle cut the ragged edge of the crust then squeezed the scraps of dough into a tiny ball. “If there’s enough left, maybe I can make you a personal pie of your own, for helping out.”

  This is why I was given the kids to raise, to make a happier family.

  “That would be cool. Could you flip the dough into the pan? I’m afraid I’ll tear it.”

  “Sure.” Once she finished crimping the edge of the crust, Annabelle sprinkled more flour onto the counter and handed Megan another ball of dough. They worked in companionable silence until there were four pies ready for the oven. Annabelle had a little bit of everything left. She pulled out a small baking dish and prepared the crust. “You want to pour in the rest of the filling?”

  “You bet.” Megan tipped the bowl over the dish and it filled it nearly to the edge. “Wow, there was just enough.”

  Annabelle put two of the large pies and the small one into the oven. She set the timer.

  “What do you want to do while we wait?”

  “I just finished my latest book. Could we just talk?”